


No More Heroes

by AnabielVriskaMars



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, OC death, PTSD, Sadness, Support
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8570488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnabielVriskaMars/pseuds/AnabielVriskaMars
Summary: Sounds were not the same. It was like hiding under a thick blanket that produced no heat and separated her from the world. Breathing was hard, but it didn't seem to matter anymore. Seldom anything did.It had been thirty days since the first time Ladybug couldn't save someone, and she still couldn't pick herself up.





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> I seem to do this a lot, but whatever: I was in the middle of a story and I came up with another, YAY.
> 
> This one's sad, though. It handles PTSD, depression and anxiety, so you are warned. If you're looking for something more light-hearted I recommend my story Two Of Us, which is pretty much made of fluff.
> 
> Otherwise, welcome to angst hell.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, don't really like the summary, but I'm late for work so I'll edit it later.
> 
> kthxbai.

Two years into being Ladybug, Marinette was finally getting the hang of it.

She thought she was getting pretty good at it as she parried left to avoid another punch from _Demolitiomme_ , a rather strange, mysoginistic man with a perchance for demolishing buildings. Today, he had focused his hand on he College Francoise-Dupont.

It had started out as a strange day to begin with. Marinette had woken up late, and only barely, because Tikki had forcibly removed all the blankets from on top of her. Marinette had whined and hid her face under the pillows, and Tikki had rolled her eyes.

Mari and Alya were in the lycee, though they took the same route to school every day. The lycee was conveniently close to the College, so they watched the students trickle into their old school with a pang of nostalgia, remembering the day they met.

Their route had been cut off by the appearance of a yellow blob of hair, who stepped in Alya’s path and began jumping excitedly.

“Alya! Alya!” She cried happily. Marinette laughed while Alya attempted to calm her down. “ _Look!_ ” She gestured happily towards her phone. Alya took it from her hands and grinned.

“Hey! Nice job!” She smiled. “Hey, Mari, check out Therese’s latest Ladybug picture.”

Marinette reached over for the phone, knowing what she’d find. The night before, she had swung by around Therese’s apartment, aware that the girl resembled Alya so much she wouldn’t possibly miss the chance for a picture.

“Well, Therese, I _have_ to say, this is top notch.” Alya nodded. Therese’s face looked like it was about to split from happiness. “Honestly, I think it deserves a spot in the blog.”

Therese froze, and for a moment, Marinette and Alya feared that they had broken the poor girl.

That was, before she shrieked.

“ _Oh my god!_ Really?” She hopped around them several times, dizzying both older girls. They laughed, and Alya nodded sagely.

“Of course! You know I only keep the best in the Ladyblog, and this is definitely it.” Alya explained. “ _Obviously_ you will get your credit, though since I’m poor I can’t exactly pay you for the picture, but I can give you this.” Alya snatched Mari’s Danishes from her hand and gave them to Therese, who was too happy to realize the origin of her payment.

“ _Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”_ She kept squealing. “This is _historical!”_

Alya pulled out her own phone.

“Commemorative picture?”

Therese linked her arms through Mari and Alya’s, and all three of them smiled for a picture. As soon as the shutter clicked, the bell for the Francois-Dupont college rang.

“Oh, that’s me!” Therese exclaimed. “I’ll see you guys later!” She chirped before rushing into the school, her ladybug-themed backpack dancing behind her back as she ran.

Marinette watched Therese run back to the classroom, reminding her so much of Alya. At fourteen, Therese loved Ladybug above all things (and Marinette was pretty sure there was a crush around there somewhere. If she were a little older, she would’ve suspected it was Chat Noir in disguise).

It was flattering, that admiration. It was amazing because she was such an amazing girl, and she absolutely idolized Ladybug, and Marinette had learned to love it (albeit shy).

Now, as Demolitiomme landed another punch against the wall, Ladybug gracefully sidestepping it, she thought about how terrified she’d been at first.

Chat crash-landed next to her, face first in the ground.

Yeah, okay, so they had a little ways to go. But they were better!

“My Lady, you look _devastating_ today.” Chat Noir grinned as he sat up. Ladybug rolled her eyes and suppressed a laugh.

“This is one of your worse ones, you know.” She smiled as Chat picked himself up. He winked at her before throwing himself back into the fight.  Before he could, however, she grabbed him by the tail and pulled him back. “Could you at least _plan_?”

Chat Noir grinned sheepishly. “I think I’m better at winging it.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes.  “Okay, so can you make him chase you to the courtyard? Its our best bet.”

Chat scoffed. “ _Can I_ annoy someone until they chase me off with a bat? My Lady, I am _offended_ that you should ask.”

Marinette grinned and let go of his tail, watching him saunter off before she checked the corridors of her old school for students.

A small, familiar ladybug-print bag caught her eye, right outside the closet door. She rushed there and opened the door to find a cowering Therese with her phone in her hand, filming through where the ridge in the door was. She frowned.

“ _What_ are you doing?” She snapped. “Do you know how dangerous this is?”

Therese whimpered but got to her feet.

“I-I’m sorry.” She stuttered. “I just wanted a good picture.”

Ladybug groaned. She was _just_ like Alya.

“Listen, I _promise_ you can take all the pictures you want when we’re done, but for now, _find cover_.” Therese nodded. “If I find you in danger again I’m not going to be happy, okay?”

Therese nodded, and even through the fear, Ladybug could see the seed of excitement in her eye. She turned on her heel to go back to the persecution, but something caught her wrist.

“Ladybug, wait.” Therese pushed out. Ladybug turned around and saw the girl blushing to the tips of her ears. “I-I wanted to say something.”

She groaned. “Can’t it wait?”

Therese’s lip quivered. “It’s quick.”

Ladybug sighed, a little exasperated. “Okay, go on. But quick.”

Therese took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I love you.” She breathed.  “I-I mean, I admire you so much and I—I don’t know what to say, I just—I love you and you mean a lot to me. I  just—yeah.”

Ladybug took a second to appreciate this. Throughout the year, she had received many love confessions, and their sincerity always left her breathless. She smiled softly at Therese.

“Thank you.” She said, because what else could she? “But if you really love me, I _need_ you to stay safe, okay?”

Therese smiled weakly –the same kind of weak one feels after confessing, weak, and tired but so satisfied—and nodded. “Yes, I’ll hide.”

Ladybug smiled and turned on her heel.

“I promise we can get a photo when this is over, okay?”

That was the moment she chose to run, so she did not see exactly how happy she’d made Therese right then.

It was a damn shame.

 

 

Demolitomme was a worthy adversary, to say the least.

Afterwards there would be several Ladybug shaped crashes on the walls of the College (not that this was new, thank Kwamis for the Miraculous Cure). Demolitiomme Crashed one of his giant, car-shaped fists against one of the classrooms of the College just as Chat Noir appeared on the scene to aid his partner.

“Everybody safe, Buginnette?”

Ladybug nodded. “Yeah, I did a last sweep before coming here. Everyone’s accounted for.”

Chat grinned. “Time to finish this, then.”

Their complete harmony during the fight was definitely something to watch. Years of putting their lives on each others’ hands had attuned their senses to their partner’s needs, and the result was a well practiced dance which simply included too much violence.

Ladybug called upon her Lucky Charm and cleverly used a siren to distract _Demolitiomme_ while Chat destroyed the axis of his  gears with his baton. Soom, Demolitiomme was on the ground and his infested… _gear stick_? Was broken over Ladybug’s leg and the papillon purified.

Chat Noir smiled, satisfied as he held his fist in front of him for their usual celebratory _bien joue_ , but as Ladybug stepped closer, she caught from the corner of her eye a look of complete panic and bewilderment on one of the student’s faces as she reached for Madame Bustier. Ladybug’s smile died on her lips as she saw the colour of her former teacher’s face drain into the collar of her suit and her poise abandoned as she rushed to a room that Demolitiomme had just destroyed.

A sense of deep, horrible dread overtook Ladybug as she rushed in that direction as well.

 

 

 _“Today, Paris faces a great loss as an Akuma claims his first permanent victim. Fourteen-year old Therese Alonzo, first year student at the College Francoise-Dupont fell victim to the villain known as_ Demolitiomme _. Chat Noir and Ladybug could not be found on scene after the cleansing of the Akuma, and have yet to give a statement. The service will be held on Friday for family and friends. The family wishes to be alone in their time of grief and have declined commentary at the moment.”_

 

Marinette lay on the bathroom floor, curled up on her side, cheek pressed against the cold ground. It was surprising, she thought for a second, how much harder the ground seemed under her face. She felt how at odds her body was with the  cool tiles, but she could not bring herself to summon the strength to move her limbs into a more comfortable position.

She couldn’t tell you how long she’d been lying there, truth be told. It seemed to have been enough for her stomach to have been completely empty, and the only action she could take was dry heaving. She had always had very visceral responses to feelings.

In the background, her phone rang.

It had rung maybe six times already, but somehow the sound was muffled, as if it were hidden under the covers of her bed, even though she was quite sure it was on the table. The only movement in the room was Tikki as she gently approached Mari.

“Mari…” She called gently, but did not even earn a blink from her charge. She landed gently on the floor in front of her, trying to capture her gaze, but it was impossible. Marinette’s eyes were unfocused and red-rimmed and the muscles of her face were slack and she was incapable of response.

“Mari, you can’t blame yourself.” Tikki insisted, but knew it was futile. “It wasn’t your fault.”

She could not draw an answer from Marinette, try as she might.

Time passed, or so she supposed. The daylight, which had seemed listless even at noon, had dimmed into the afternoon, and finally night. It seemed to make no difference and Marinette did not attempt to pick herself from the ground.

Of course, her parents came to see her, repeatedly. Her mother had brought six cups of tea to try and settle her stomach, but Marinette didn’t recognize her efforts. Her father, too, had spent a good while sitting against the bathroom door, right outside, and tried to connect with his daughter, but to no avail.

Images of that morning floated in front of Marinette’s eyes, all of them resolving into the small, crumpled figure that seemed just a shade too pale to be asleep. Unconsciously, Marinette found herself imitating that posture as she lay in the bathroom floor. Everything in her mind was white noise, infinities of static with a single interruption every lifetime. An interruption with no voice and no head and no echo. Just a thought that she saw over and over again against her eyelids and drew a new tear every time.

_She’s gone._

It had been twenty four hours since the death of Therese Alonzo, and Marinette still hadn’t spoken.


	2. Adrien's Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter 2 of "The Author is Full of Angsty Feelings And Is Channeling Them Into Something Vaguely Productive Rather Than Beating Herself Up Over It"

 

There was a heavy silence roaming the halls that Thursday. It wasn’t that many students in the lycee had known Therese. In fact, most of them had barely even seen her, since she had been a recent transfer into the College, and nobody had paid particular attention to the new underclassman that didn’t even go to their school.

Students were, however, opening their eyes to a new and terrifying realization about their own mortality.

See, it was easy for children to forget that life was something that could slip through the fingers. As they had grown up and turned into teenagers, the idea of an end became a vague point in the horizon for most of them, with a few individuals being much more presently aware of it. They had grown part of their childhood in a beautiful city terrorized by monsters roughly twice a week, and the novelty had worn off. They had grown less weary and more confident around the akumas. For some time, they had forgotten how dangerous they truly were.

Because how could they not? When a child learns to ride a bicycle, it will not be afraid as long as there is somebody to catch it. The city of Paris had become complacent and had lost its edge, always believing in its heroes’ uncanny ability to always catch them.

Until they couldn’t.

Until there was that one time when that somebody tripped and could no longer keep up with the bicycle and it had spiraled out of control until it crashed. That is when the child became aware that falling existed, and that it hurt.

The Fall had been Therese Alonzo.

Citizens retreated to their behavior the early days –the rise of Papillon—and every day there seemed to be a new article on Ladybug and Chat Noir. The ever present _Where are they?_ Questions were asked, and there were terrible accusations. Citizens had fallen into a schism: those who still believed in their heroes, and those who didn’t.

There was, fortunately, a larger amount of the former, and Adrien was eternally grateful for that. His gratitude, however, occupied only the smallest corner in his mind.

He hadn’t known Therese Alonzo. Not really.

He had seen her around and knew she had been friends with both Marinette and Alya, and he knew she was a Ladybug fan. That was his entire understanding of the girl.

But somehow, he felt a nondescript hole slowly building in his chest.

He watched the empty seats were Marinette and Alya would’ve sat, had they come to school that day.

It had only been one day since the tragedy, and the lycee, at least, did its best to keep it as on schedule as possible.

Of course, both girls had been excused for the rest of the week –they were given time to grieve, as friends of the poor girl.

As Adrien tried to summon the face of Therese into his mind, he found it impossible. He grasped at details, and could remember small things –the shape of her eyes, or the thinness of her lips—but as he tried to assemble the pieces together into a face, it became another person entirely. For the life of him, Adrien Agreste could not imagine the face of the girl that he had allowed to die.

The idea still seemed to only be floating around his mind, not really landing. When it did, he knew, it would crash against the walls of his head heavily.

But for now, the thought floated listlessly, shoved aside by an intense and almost unbearable craving for Ladybug.

Don’t get him wrong. It wasn’t a selfish craving. He wanted to see her –see in her face that everything would be okay. That they had done all they could and thy were exempt from blame. He wanted her to tell him that it was Papillon’s fault, and nobody else’s.

But Adrien was no fool. He had seen the look in his partner’s face as she had drawn in the horror of the room into her face. It had taken him only one second of looking at the sprawled body on the ground to lose Ladybug.

Adrien felt guilty. That much was true.

He felt guilty because citizens of Paris had trusted him and Ladybug to keep them safe. He felt guilty because he was one of the two only people in the world who could’ve saved Therese, but he hadn’t.

But Adrien found an inch of logic to forgive him. There was a small voice of reason in the back of his head that whispered that he had tried his hardest and had spent the past two years saving millions upon millions of people, and, as much as it pained him, he could not be torn down over one loss. It simply would not do for Paris to lose its heroes.

Because if there was one thing Adrien knew at this moment, was that Ladybug was shattered.

He knew his partner’s heart much more deeply than his own. He could recognize the creases of her face, like letters painted upon her skin. Slashes of guilt and self-blame shone through her eyes, along with terror and guilt and sadness and nausea. He knew her heart so well, he was sure he wouldn’t see her again anytime soon.

So he focused on being Adrien for five minutes.

He focused on doing what he could.

Right now there was no roof he could climb –no sea he could swim—to reach his Lady, and to invest all of his strength on something he could see was futile would distract him from doing the one thing he could.

As if his mind had been read, his phone vibrated in his pocket. The teacher continued her lesson none the wiser. Adrien checked his messages under the table.

 

**From: Nino**

**To: Adrien**

**Alya isn’t answering her phone. Imma check on her after school. Check on Mari?**

Adrien started for a second.

Go to Marinette?

Two years after beginning school, he had certainly become closer with her, though there was still a veil of awkwardness to their eencounters, and it only seemed to get worse whenever they were designed to be alone. He was pretty sure Marinette still didn’t like him much.

Adrien reread the message. He frowned. This was no time for that.

 

**From: Adrien**

**To: Nino**

**Definitely. I’ll give Gorilla the slip. Text you tonight.**

 

He was vaguely aware of Nino checking his phone across the room and nodding curtly once.

 

* * *

 

When Adrien stepped into the bakery, one glance was enough to read the thinly veiled concern in the Dupain-Cheng’s faces. They smiled cheerfully at their costumers, but he could see the strained eyes and pulled edges that confessed neither one of them had truly slept the night before.

Sabine Cheng was the first to spot him.

“Oh, Adrien, hi!”  She greeted, stepping closer to him. Adrien smiled politely and met her halfway.

“Hi Madame Cheng,” he replied, eyeing his surroundings. As expected, Marinette was not in the bakery. He lowered his voice. “Uhm, Madame?”

Sabine suppressed a yawn. “Yes, dear? Is there anything you need? Mari tells me you secretly love sweets, do you want me to get you something? On the house, of course!”

Adrien scratched his neck bashfully. “No, its about her, actually.” He cleared his throat. “I… I came to see Mari. I know she probably doesn’t want to see anyone but… well, we missed her at school today and I—I guess I just wanted to give her my support?” He ended awkwardly, and looked up at Sabine.

Her face had lost its edge, and she looked tired, but with a sincere smile. She grabbed Adrien’s cheeks gently and pressed a kiss on his forehead.

“You are a wonderful boy, Adrien.” She said gently. “We really appreciate this.”

Adrien could not help but blush to the roots of his hair, and said nothing. Sabine gestured to the door of their apartment.

“I’m sorry I can’t walk you upstairs, but we have clients. I’m sure you’ll find your way. Her room is in the topmost floor.” She finished as she painted that cheerful smile on her lips again.

Adrien watched her get back to work and sighed, gently touching the spot she had kissed.

It had been a while since anyone had done that.

Adrien shook his head and climbed the stairs.

 

* * *

 

As Sabine had said, it was difficult to get lost. He had found the trapdoor quickly enough, and knocked loudly.

Seconds passed. No answer.

Unsure, Adrien knocked again.

Still, no answer.

Carefully, Adrien pushed the trapdoor open, making as much sound as he could.

“Marinette? Are you here? It’s Adrien.” He opened it fully and climbed into the room. “Mari…?”

His eye was caught by movement  on top of a set of stairs that seemed to lead to a suspended bed. There she was, pyjama clad and hair unkempt. Each stair she took only made Adrien’s concern grow.

Her hair was loose and messy. Her skin looked chalky, as if she hadn’t slept in days. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and he could only barely see that wonderful blue he had come to admire so much, and it glistened like shattered diamonds in the sea.

“Marinette?” He called again, more gently this time. She made it to the ground floor, and he noticed the red in her nose and the patches in her cheeks. She pulled her lips in the vaguest attempt at a smile, but seemed to not find it worthy enough of the effort, and immediately dropped it.

“Adrien.” She replied. Her voice was raw and damaged, like her throat was torn from the inside. There was none of that emotion he was so fond of—that constant cheerfulness (awkward as it could be)—and Adrien wondered if the person he had in front of him was really the Marinette he thought he knew.

“H-hey,” he said weakly. “Can I—?” He gestured vaguely to the room, and Marinette only stared at him thoughtlessly, her mind thousands of miles away. In the spirit of not feeling completely ridiculous, and encouraged by the lack of rejection, Adrien climbed into Marinette’s room awkwardly, and stood in front of her with no words. She watched him listlessly, and it all seemed to drain Adrien even more of meaning. What _could_ he say?

“Hi,” he said finally. Marinette did not respond. She kept watching him, waiting for something to fall out of him. “I, uh—I came to see how you were doing.”

Marinette’s gaze dropped to the ground. For a moment, something almost akin to shame seemed to cross over her features, but Adrien could not quite pinpoint it.

“Thank you.” She said robotically. “I’m okay.”

Boldly, Adrien touched her shoulder gently. Marinette raised her eyes to meet his, and as soon as they locked in, he felt a thousand crystals stab him through the chest. At that moment, Adrien knew that he would’ve torn his own liver out to never have to see his friend like this again.

“Its okay, Mari.” He said gently, and ventured another hand towards her free arm. He held her at a arm’s length and tried peering into her eyes, much as it hurt. “She was your friend. Its okay to feel like…” he trailed off.

Marinette pressed her lips together, and he could see a new wave of tears building up behind her eyes. Marinette brought one of her hands quickly to cover her mouth and choked back a sob before crashing against Adrien’s chest and breaking down again.

He held her tight against himself. He covered as much of her surface as he could, blanketing her from the outside world. He rubbed her back soothingly and rested his chin over her head.

It all seemed so natural to him. It seemed like he was attuned with what she needed now, and didn’t question the origin of these instincts. Instead, he hugged her and whispered soft ‘I’m sorry’s into her hair.

And Marinette--- Marinette cried her eyes out.

Every time she had been convinced that there was nothing left in her, every time she had believed that she was finally just a shell, a new wave of pain rolled over her and she was once again a girl of flesh and bone and tears. She had cried until her eyes were dry and until she couldn’t feel her lips, and then she had cried some more.

Because there was more than grief to her tears.

There was shame and guilt and the sense of failure. Through every single one of her tears, venomous thoughts slipped into her mind, whispering that she couldn’t be Ladybug, that it was _her_ fault, that Therese was dead, and it was Marinette’s fault. That _she_ was the one who should’ve been in that room.

But the harder the voices spoke, the louder she sobbed. The deeper she buried her face in Adrien’s shirt, and the firmer she pressed against his heart, only to drown them out.

Marinette had tried outrunning these voices, but could only go so far. They whispered and laughed at her, and they took the faces and voices of the citizens of Paris. They spoke in the voice of news anchors and terrified parents and nervous children. She heard the voices on the politicians and the police men and the medics. She heard them all, and they all told her she failed.

Because she had. She had failed in a way she had never heard another Ladybug fail. She failed spectacularly, fell so deeply not even Chat Noir could’ve rescued her.

And oh, God, Chat—

Right now, she needed him.

She needed him so much it hurt. Along all the oppressive pain in her chest, and tearing and breaking inside her heart, she could still feel the aching throb of need for her partner.

But how could she face him? How could she ever dare look at him when she was not fit for him? When she had fallen from grace so deeply, Paris had begun to question its need for them.

But oh, she needed him.

For a few moments, she allowed herself to think Adrien’s arms were Chat’s, and that everything would be okay.

 

* * *

 

Adrien had stayed until the unceasing vibrations of his phone warned him of Nathalie’s knowledge of his unscheduled detour.

Reluctantly, he let go of Marinette, who had allowed herself to breathe with brief interludes of hiccupping sobs. He tried to reach her eyes, concerned, but she aimed them elsewhere, as if the intimacy of her grief had become to much to share with him.

With a pang of rejection, Adrien fished his phone and answered Nathalie and explained his position with no explanation. He hung up the phone on a protesting Nathalie and turned to Marinette again.

“I have to go,” he said softly. “Are you going to be okay?”

But she didn’t answer.

“Are you going to the funeral tomorrow?”

Silence.

“If you want me to go with you, I can.”

More silence.

The strain of seeing his friend so broken drew the air out of Adrien’s lungs, and he felt choked. They stayed in silence until his phone vibrated again, signaling the arrival of his transport.

Without a second thought, Adrien pressed a soft, chaste kiss upon Marinette’s forehead, his hands resting on her cheeks in an unconscious imitation of what her mother had done for him earlier.

But as Adrien climbed down the stairs and the trapdoor closed behind him, Marinette could only think about a demolished classroom.

 

* * *

 

The scolding Adrien received in the car was nothing to turn nose up at.

Nathalie seemed as upset as he’d ever seen her, her tone harsh but her words controlled. She spoke of risks and what it meant for an Akuma to have killed somebody, and how now more than ever safety was primordial to him. She ended her rant with a note of not accusing him with his father, but a demand that he never do it again.

Adrien was just too inside himself to notice that Nathalie had been trembling lightly, and that behind her eyes there wasn’t any rage or disappointment, rather than terror mixed with relief.

Adrien limited himself to thinking how Marinette would take to Chat Noir appearing on her roof tonight.


	3. The Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes hello it is I, angst.com
> 
> apparently i am still alive

It was nine at night, and Marinette had only recently woken up.

She had fallen asleep a few minutes after Adrien left, too exhausted by the interaction and the crying to do anything else –not that she _would_ do anything else.

Her parents came to check up on her a few times, and found her sleeping each one. Sabine had changed three plated of untouched food from Marinette’s doorstep already, and she was growing more than a little concerned.

Tikki couldn’t take it.

“Mari, _please_ ,” she begged from the other edge of the pillow where Marinette rested her head. “You need to eat something… anything. You’re going to get sick! And who’s going to help Paris then?”

Marinette stared blankly at Tikki for a few seconds before hiding her face against the pillow.

“I can’t protect Paris already.” She muttered emptily. “So why does it matter?”

Tikki was on the edge of tears. “It matters to _me_ , Mari. And to your parents. And to Adrien and Alya and Nino and all your friends! Do you think they want you to feel like this?” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Do you think Therese would?”

Instead of answering, Marinette turned on her other side and gave her back to Tikki. The latter had thought that the conversation was over, and could only barely catch when Marinette muttered, “Therese was wrong about a lot of things.”

It is important to note that this was not the first time that a Ladybug lost an innocent. The difference was that, usually, Ladybugs were older, and more mature. Tikki had wondered from the start what Master Fu had been thinking when he had picked somebody as young as Marinette, but she had accepted with time that she was wiser beyond her years.

It was easy to forget that she was still just a child.

“Marinette,” Tikki muttered sadly. “Please, come back to me.”

But Mari didn’t answer. A shuddering sigh told Tikki that she wasn’t asleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Adrien paced around his room, almost wildly. Plagg watched him from one of his shelves in the wall, studying him intently. Since the incident, he seemed more serious, Adrien had noticed. Adrien looked outside at the glowing lights of Paris against the starstruck sky.

“I need to find Ladybug.” Adrien said finally. “She needs me. I know she does.”

Plagg watched him for a few seconds, saying nothing. Adrien zeroed in on his Kwami.

“Are you even listening?” He demanded.

“Kid, have you even taken five minutes to process this?”

“I don’t have _time_ to process things, Plagg, Ladybug needs me!”

“I think she’s able to handle herself quite fine.” Plagg floated in Adrien’s range of vision. “ _You_ , on the other hand, haven’t processed this. And when it hits you in the face its going to be bad.”

Adrien made a dismissive motion with his hand.

Plagg huffed in frustration.

“Ladybug will show herself when she _wants_ to be found. Not you nor I can change that.” Plagg reasoned, and he saw a spark of understanding in Adrien’s eye. “Besides, I thought you wanted to see your friend.”

Adrien stopped short.

“Marinette.” He choked. Plagg flew around him, settling in front of him.

“Yes. The baker girl. You said you wanted to be a friend to her.” Plagg said. “So instead of running around mindlessly through the night, lets focus on one thing at a time, alright? If Ladybug calls, you will hear her.”

Plagg watched Adrien consider the facts in her head. He watched the furrowed eyebrow and could almost smell the smoke coming out of his ears.

This wasn’t the first time they’d had an incident of this nature. In thousands of years, heroes were bound to lose _some_ battles. And what Plagg had learned from more than one foolish, self-sacrificing cat, was that they got so obsessed over their partner’s feeling that they didn’t allow themselves time to mourn.

It ended badly each time.

So hopefully, if Plagg could keep him _Adrien_ for long enough—expose him to the _Adrien_ side of him, rather than the _Chat_ —maybe he could keep him from the inevitable spiral and eventual crashlanding.

Hopefully.

“We’re visiting her.” Adrien decided. Plagg winced.

“Now? Its almost midnight cheese time!”

Adrien ignored him and extended his arm, before Plagg felt the all too familiar tug into the magic ring.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The pink walls of her room had finally begun to close down on her.

Everywhere she looked, she saw pictures of people she cared about, and, one by one, images of these people took Therese’s place on the ground.

Her mother. Alya. Chat.

Her father. Nino. Nate.

In the end, they all returned to Therese –small, defenseless _young_ Therese.

She was a _child_. Only on the edge of growing up, and she had been taken by Papillon’s greed. Had been taken by Ladybug’s _failure_.

The pictures, the colors, the softness, the _comfort_ of her room was too much. Far too much.

The warm air was stifling and the sheets on her bed were drowning her and her eyes were hurting from the colors and she couldn’t _stand_ hearing Tikki’s voice anymore and she needed out out out _out_.

So she did.

Commanding Tikki to stay in her room, Marinette climbed to the rooftop through the hatch right over her bed. The chilling breeze that blew at that moment felt like they were slicing her skin, and had become the first thing she had genuinely felt in the past two days.

It was like living in a bubble, this grief.

She watched the world around her move in slow motion, like nothing required her immediate attention, or reaction. Nothing she touched really made contact with her, as if there were a new layer of cloth between her and the rest. The lights were dimmer and the colors were less tuned, and blues merged with greens, and pinks and oranges seldom looked any different. She could hear the words that were being spoken to her, but could only barely undersand them, like trying to decipher lyrics to a song that is playing way too loudly.

So now, this wind –this real piece of world that had managed to sneak into her bubble—was welcome. She wondered how long until she began feeling cold, and felt herself looking forward to it.

So she sat in the small terrace of her rooftop, knees to her chest and arms around them. Her hair was loose and tangled and she was wearing the same pajamas for two days in a row. Changing clothes seemed inconsequential at best.

She watched the way the stars blinked softly in the night, dim against the Parisien lights. She thought about her grandmother’s superstition: that the souls of those who died went to heaven, and the stars that went out were just souls coming back to earth. It was a sad thought if you considered that the stars could barely shine in the night sky of Paris’s bright lit streets.

She did not hear Chat land, rather than felt a strange new presence that she could not be bothered to identify.

“Marinette?” She heard her name be called from in front of her, so busy were her eyes trained on the sky. When she dropped her gaze, she saw a hesitant Chat Noir standing on the ledge, occupying the least amount of space possible, as if waiting to be thrown out.

“Chat,” she croaked. Her voice was hoarse with disuse. She cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?”

He took a tentative step forward. His hesitance was so unlike Chat, it would’ve bothered Marinette under other circumstances. As things stood, she hugged her knees and waited for an answer she wasn’t sure interested her.

“I came to see you.” He replied, and for a fraction of a second, she felt slightly uplifted. “To apologize.” He said quietly, his ears drooping.

Marinette hugged her blanket closer to her body.

“Why should you apologize? It wasn’t your fault.” She replied airily. Her head felt light and disconnected from the rest of her, and the words that left her lips were a recording from before she stepped out of her body.

He just looked at her, measuring words. She saw the moment he chose to not discuss.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, stepping tentatively closer. He behaved much like Adrien had this afternoon, but then, she supposed most people reacted to tragedy in a similar manner. “Have you eaten anything? You look exhausted.”

“I’ve been sleeping a lot.” She confessed. “But that’s mostly it.”

Chat Noir closed the space between then and knelt on the ground in front of her chair. He studied her carefully, and she watched him back with empty eyes. It would’ve warmer her heart, the concern she read on him, had it not been in pieces.

“When was the last time you ate something? Drank water?” He pressed.

“I haven’t been hungry.” She muttered. She watched his concern deepen, and the way he rummaged through his brain for anything to say. His face was much the same as her parents’ as they had tried to give her encouragement, but they had drawn a blank as well.

“Marinette,” he whispered, and she started at how sad his voice sounded. “Please, talk to me. I know we’re not friends, but I want to help.”

She eyed him. “Why?”

Mari saw the softening in his eyes, and how his sadness seemed to melt a little into a gentle look, almost sympathetic.

“I’ve seen you.” He replied. “You have a special heart. Kindness that I can’t explain. I want to help you. I don’t know how to explain it, but something doesn’t feel right if I know you’re like this.”

“Chat, this isn’t something that disappears overnight.” Marinette said, and found herself slowly drawn back to her body. Her words were no longer churned from a mill, rather well-thought phrases. “I don’t think I’m going to be okay for some time.”

This last phrase stunned her. The reality faced her straight on, the fact that, for now, this endless cycle of guilt and sadness would be her life, and that it might never go back to the way it had been. She could not see an end to this fog.

“You don’t have to be.” He said softly, surprising her. “I’m not asking you to be okay. Just eat, even a little. I know its hard, and it won’t get better for some time, but eventually –yeah, eventually it’ll get a little easier.”

Marinette looked at Chat and felt the weight of her heart heavy on her chest.

“She was so young.” She whispered. Chat reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “I should’ve done something.” She felt a tear slip through her eye. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, half hoping Chat hadn’t seen it.

“It wasn’t up to you.” He pressed. “You didn’t send that Akuma. You didn’t lock her in a classroom. You did _nothing_ to make this happen. Do you understand?”

“I didn’t stop it, either.”

“It has never been your job to do so.”

Oh, but it was. She wanted to say that. Scream, _yes, it_ is _my job_. But she bit her tongue and settled into being Marinette for the night. Settled on being _heartbroken_ tonight. Because if she had too be Ladybug, she would have to feel guilty, too, and that was something she couldn’t deal with right now.

So she shifted her hand and took Chat’s, giving it a light squeeze –something gentle—to acknowledge him and his attempts at helping her. She looked up at him and let out a deep breath, for the first time finding the bottom of the well that seemed to have opened inside of her.

“We can take this step by step.” He said kindly. “Is that okay with you?”

Wordlessly, she nodded. What he promised seemed so outrageous to her right now, but he seemed so _sure_ of it that she couldn’t help but crave a moment in which she would be just okay.

“Do you mind if I come back tomorrow night?”

Marinette shook her head. Chat smiled, just a little bit.

“Can you eat something tomorrow? Just a little bit?”

“I’ll try.” She replied, and Chat squeezed her hand.

“That’s all I ask.” He stood, dragging her hand with him, and caressed her knuckles once before letting in drop. “I’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll get through this.”

Chat turned around and walked towards the edge of the roof.

“Chat.” She called, feeling an almost desperate need to be heard. He only tuned his head. Through the jumble of words in her head, she only managed to say, “thank you.”

He smiled, and was gone.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When Adrien reached his home at midnight, he checked his phone. There was one message.

 

**From: Marinette**

**To: Adrien**

**Does the offer still stand?**

 

 

Adrien felt a flush of relief, and a quickening at the understanding that he had helped, even in the smallest of ways.

 

**From Adrien**

**To: Marinette**

**Of course. Pick you up at 8?**

 

A minute later, his phone buzzed.

 

**From: Marinette**

**To: Adrien**

**Alright…. And thank you. For everything.**

 

 

Adrien clutched his phone and remembered how broken she had been only a few minutes ago. From somewhere inside of him, a resolution was born: he would help Marinette Dupain-Cheng whatever it took.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frankly I dont know where this is going but its going.


	4. The Funeral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me; I wrote this chapter in Finland on my phone.

Sabine Cheng stood behind the register of the Boulangerie, and was more than surprised when a black sedan pulled up in front of the store. Somehow, the car seemed to be cloaked in a somberness that she wasn't used to, and a part of her wished that whoever was there would leave. She watched, entranced, as the door opened and a man emerged from its darkness. She was more than surprised to see the man turn out to be Adrien.

  
She flopped the rag she was using to clean the counter over her shoulder, and saw Adrien settle back on himself, looking again like the 17 year old boy she sometimes could forget he was.

  
The bell to the establishment rang.

  
"Good morning, Madame." Adrien said politely, and Sabine felt a surge of affection for him. He was such a pleasant boy, and his affection for her daughter was no small thing in her book. She smiled pleasantly.

  
"Good morning, Adrien." She cocked her head to the side. "I thought you'd be going to school today?"

  
"He's taking me to the funeral." Came the response behind her. Sabine nearly tripped on her shoes as she turned to see Marinette, out of her room for the first time in days.

  
"O-oh." She stuttered, and Marinette rounded her to reach Adrien. Her heart tightened as she watched how fragile she seemed-- how wispy and small her frame was-- and felt the constricting pain of impotence plastered around her lungs. "I didn't think--- yes, of course, darling."  
Sabine allowed herself a moment to study the children-- no; not children anymore. She allowed herself to study the young pair in front of her.

  
Marinette, out of her room for the first time in two days, did not seem to fit in the outside world, like her figure not entirely right with her surroundings. She resembled a mildly upset painting, never in tune with its surroundings. Even though Sabine knew it was imposible, she could almost see Marinette's face become more angular and less round, as if two days of ill eating habits were enough to bite at her weight. She wore a black, knee length dress with no memorable qualities, her bare arms almost ivory twigs.

  
She was surprised to find that Adrien seemed to be shrouded in some of that darkness, too. It wasn't only grief and worry, there was something else. It almost felt as if they were together in on something without knowing it. Also, under this light, Adrien looked.... maybe not fragile, but a little bit on the skinny side, though she supposed that had to be part of a model's life.

  
Adrien cleared his throat awkwardly, snapping Sabine out of her reverie.  
"Oh yes; I'm sorry." She smiled apologetically. "Give my condolences to the family as well, please." She added this last part looking at Adrien, knowing that Marinettes own grief would be too much to handle when they arrived.   
Awkwardly, Adrien nodded and bid his good morning, opening the door for Marinette to step out. Before he could follow, however, Sabine fought the urge to grab him by the suit sleeve and thank him profusely. Instead, she just watched him disappear into the car behind Marinette, the chauffeur driving away as soon as the door closed.

  
Sabine closed her eyes and silently thanked the stars that it wasn't her daughter under that classroom.

 

* * *

 

The silence was absolute and engulfing.

Marinette felt as if she had been dipped in ink, her extremities dripping still, pulling her under. Everything in her felt like lead, her dress constricting her rib cage until her lungs couldn't expand anymore and her mouth was full of ink and--

  
"Hey." She heard the voice through the water, and when his hand reached for hers it was as if he were reaching into the pit itself, dragging her out for a blissful breath of air. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

  
But they did. They had to.

  
Or at least she did.

  
Because she had to look at Therese's parents, even if they didn't know who she was, and ask for forgiveness, even if they didn't know what she was sorry for. 'I'm sorrys' exploded in her chest like a nest of spiders and crawled all over her throat and mouth, drowning her in impotence and grief and guilt. She wanted to beg Adrien to take her away, tell him who she was, and have him absolve her, as if he held that power. She wanted him not to only be the hand that reached into the water for her, rather than a ship to pull her out and carry her to safety.

  
But she couldn't ask that of him.

  
Especially considering that she didn't deserve absolution. Whatever nightmare she was living right now, she deserved it, and there was nobody that could grant her forgiveness for it.

  
She felt a stirring in her clutch and knew that Tikki could feel her aura if not her thoughts. But what else could be expected of her? For the first time since becoming Ladybug, the weight of her job pressed down on her, drawing the blood from her core.

  
"Marinette?" Adrien's voice snaked into her head. She realized that they had arrived at the cemetery, and the chauffeur held her door open for her. She shuffled, embarrassed, as she stepped outside of the car and into the brightly lit morning, blazing sun beating down on her, but not hard enough to disperse her shadows. When she saw the crowd in the distance she froze, thinking for a second that she was still Ladybug, and the murder of reporters was actually here to grill her alive. It took Adrien's hand on her shoulder and a genuine word of concern to pull her back into her body and retrieve the air into her lungs. She remembered that she was Marinette, not Ladybug, and as that she was only another grieving guest.

  
She gathered one deep breath, the only one she would be able to take st all, and went in.

 

 

* * *

  
There was something indescribably brave about the way Marinette squared her shoulders and blended with the crowd. It wasn't the circumstances, but rather her attitude that made her so startling. He saw the way her back straightened, as if a single ounce of strength rolled over her body and shaped it into unbeatable metal. He watched as her sad, sad eyes opened determinately and her fists clenched tightly and it was as if someone had dropped a bucket of water on top of her and she had become someone else. There it was, the determination he had admired for the past year, and something else, something familiar but not quite there.

  
He tried to look into it, maybe if he squinted the right way he could see it.... 

But no.

  
The drop of familiarity dissolved as quickly as it had appeared, and Adrien was left watching Marinette as she stood in line to give her condolences. He was about to step forward, when a hand landed on his shoulder.

  
"Monsieur Agreste!" Came the shrewd, loud voice, cutting through the mourning and sadness and foggy rememberance. Adrien was only too sorry to recognize the voice before turning his eyes on the woman.

  
Her nose was large and her lipstick painted over her teeth and outside the limits of her lips. She had a wide smile but bead-like eyes, and they were focusing completely on him. Her hair was big and orange. Adrien resisted the urge to groan.

  
"Madame Fasquelle." He replied dryly. Not only was this woman known to him personally as one of the number one stalkers in the region, always looking for gossip, she was also one of Chat Noir's most ardent followers, always asking a word and prompting unbased prompts of information, to catch him off guard and circulate rumors about him or Ladybug. She was unscrupulous as she was annoying, and Adrien could not stand her for the life of him.

  
"I didn't know you were close to the victim." She said with a nasal voice. Adrien resisted the urge to grimace.

  
"Therese." He corrected. "And no, she was close friends with my friend." Before she could ask something, Adrien turned the tables on her. "What are you doing here? There's hardly a story anymore. At least not enough for half the reporters in Paris to be here."

  
Fasquelle laughed, as if she found Adrien's ignorance endearing.

  
"Silly boy, we're waiting for Ladybug and Chat Noir to show up!"

  
Adrien started, but hit it behind a cough.  
"Th-them?"

  
"Of course!" Fasquelle chimed. "It is their fault that the child is dead."

  
" _Therese._ " Adrien corrected again. Fasquelle shrugged as she reached for a snack from the table. She studied it unconvinced, and dropped it on her plate.

  
"You'd think with a funeral this grand they'd at least have a good meal."  
Adrien was suddenly very close to snapping when he felt a presence looming over him. He looked over his shoulder to find Gorilla towering over him, shooting a death glare at Fasquelle, who seemed less than intimidated by him.

  
"Oh; relax Gregory, I'm not harassing the boy. We were just discussing the weather." She said dryly. Either way, Adrien had had enough. He spun on his heel to look for Marinette.

  
He found her in the arms of a woman that could only be Therese Alonzo's mother. The woman hugged Marinette tightly, tears spilling freely down her face as she clutched what Adrien realized was a photograph in her right hand. Marinette was crying silently, not at all the way she did the day before with him, and Adrien didn't know what to do, so he waited. He waited awkwardly, outside the range of grief that both women had procured for themselves, until Therese's father, a man who had probably aged fifty years in three days, lay a hand on his wife's shoulder, and she recoiled from Marinette back into his arms to resume crying.

Adrien went to comfort Marinette, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder, and watched her back as she wiped her eyes and nose before turning around. He couldn't help but wonder why she bothered trying to hide her tears, but understood quietly that it was just who she was. Adrien smiled sadly at her and Marinette allowed herself to be enveloped by him in a hug that he wished could protect her from the outside world.

  
Adrien heard the click of the camera and knew that this would be in the tabloids in the morning. But that was tomorrow Adrien's problem.

  
He heard low mutterings, and could only catch the name of his superhero alter ego before he wanted to snap. Before he could say anything, he watched in horror as Fasquelle stepped forth to the grieving parents and began asking questions.  
"How do you feel about the fact that neither Ladybug nor Chat Noir showed up at the funeral? After all, it was them who--"

  
"Enough."

  
The outburst didn't come from the shell shocked parents, who could not believe the lack of tact the reporter showed. Nor did it come from Adrien himself, quite versed in the art of telling reporters off. It didn't even come from a member of the family.

  
It came from the wispy girl in his arms.  
Marinette had turned angrily at Fasquelle and snapped in something that wasn't a shout, but wasn't an inside voice exactly. It sounded dangerous, protective, and quite frankly, downright scary.

  
"You think you can come down here, to a child's funeral, and harass the parents for the sake of a stupid story about a superhero failing?" Marinettes voice was loud and threatening. Fasquelle's mouth hung open, clearly unused to retaliation from one of her victims. "You want a word on them? Fine: here it is. Failure. Ladybug is a failure as a superhero and she doesn't deserve that name."

  
"What about Chat Noir?" Someone asked from behind. Another reporter, Adrien assumed.

  
Marinette didn't rip her eyes from Fasquelle, and looked like she was about to tear the reporter's throat out.

  
"Without Chat Noir; there would have been more incidents, and far more often, than this one." Marinette spat. "Go write that down for your stupid articles and leave us alone."

  
But instead of heeding her, reporters rushed forwards with questions, and Marinette simply took off, leaving a perplexed Adrien and grieving families behind.

  
He ran to catch up to her, but she kept walking away until they reached the trees. Marinette hid behind one and pressed her back against the bark, allowing herself to slump.

  
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice exhausted. She looked drained, as if this day out had been more than enough to put her out of commission.

  
But Adrien was proud. He didn't like what she had said about Ladybug, but the strength she had displayed--- the passion that had overtaken them... for a moment, she had shone like the sun she used to be.

  
"Do you want me to take you home?" Adrien asked, and Marinette nodded without opening her eyes. Immediately, Adrien called Gorilla to bring the car around.

  
The way to her house was spent in complete silence.

* * *

 

  
Marinette had felt Tikki stir in her purse for the past hour, but never gave her the opportunity to come out. She made sure, in fact, that they were always surrounded by a crowd, so the Kwami wouldn't have been able to come out either way.

  
Marinette didn't want to see her. Especially not since her outburst.

  
She knew what Tikki would say. Or perhaps she didn't. The truth was, she didn't care. Tikki's words were mud against the glass of her mind, sliding easily across its surface and not making a single crack. Whatever she said wouldn't be enough. Whatever anybody said couldn't be enough. Because whatever happened, the fact remained that she had told the truth: Therese Alonzo was Ladybug's greatest failure, and there was nothing she would ever be able to do that would make it right.

  
But she was so tired right now. The sun on her skin hadn't been pleasant, as it used to. It had only tried to seep between her pores and warm her-- tried to cheer her-- and failed miserably. It pricked at her skin, and the sound of people was violent against her ears and her throats was raw with rage and her eyes were stinging with tears and everything about herself felt wrong in ways she had never known.

  
Even Adrien, as he sat next to her on a car that felt more like a capsule propelled through space, felt wrong. He looked skinny and tired and pale and had bags under his eyes and irradiated a nervousness that she had never known him to possess. It was as if a rock had been thrown against the image of him in her mind, breaking it into shards of glass that reflected poorly on everything he'd ever done, and came up to not being enough.

  
Not enough. It was the first time in her life that she had thought Adrien Agreste wouldn't be enough.

  
Enough for what? She asked herself, but came up blank. It didn't matter though. Whatever it was. It didn't matter because Adrien was not enough. There was a hole in her life in the shape of a person, and it wasn't just Therese anymore. It was Therese and Adrien and Ladybug. A black hole that walked around her life warping everything. Something that destroyed. Something that broke. Something that couldn't fix. Everything that shadow touched broke down into its simplest pieces, and Marinette had to watch them fall helplessly to the ground and wonder how exactly she would ever manage to put them back together, until she realized that she never would be able to.

  
Her world broke apart and there was nobody there to fix it.

  
"We're here." Adrien said, and Marinette was sure she could hear relief in his voice.

  
For the first time, she felt the same way.

 

* * *

 

 

Night came along and Marinette was sitting outside her room again, watching the city as it went to bed. She was outside because night was much more bearable than day, and again, she couldn't stand the sight of Tikki.

  
The kwami had begun asking questions. How long did she think she could keep this up? What would she do if an Akuma attacked? Just sit by?

  
When would she get back on that horse?

  
And the answer to all of these questions was the same: she didn't know.

  
More importantly, she didn't care that she didn't know. Ladybug had fallen from the planes of priority in her mind, and all she could do right now was focus on breathing. Every second was difficult to live with, as if the air had turned thicker and hotter and humid and it was like walking through steam and choking on it.

  
That's when the feline paws touched the rooftop.

  
The funny thing about everything being too much, was that she heard everything loudly, so Chat Noir's arrival didn't go unnoticed.

  
Neither did the smell of what he brought.  
"Marinette?" He called softly, as if she were asleep. "I don't know if you've eaten. I brought you this."

  
Marinette didn't say anything, instead moving aside to make some space for him to sit down. Slowly and hesitantly, he stepped closer to her until he reached her bench and sat next to her, looking at Paris.

  
"Did you get out of the house today?" He asked quietly. Marinette silently thanked him for not breaking her bubble with noise. In fact, for a moment, she felt as if Chat Noir could reach into her bubble as well, but chose not to at the moment.

  
"I went to the funeral," she surprised herself saying. "And I yelled at the reporters."

  
She didn't see him, but somehow sheknew he was smiling a little. "Yeah? Told them to piss off?"

  
To both of their surprises, she let out a tiny huff of air, almost imperceptible.

  
An undeniable laugh.

  
Marinette looked at Chat, stunned. He had made her laugh. Just a little bit, a simple change in her respiration pattern, but it had been there. She had thought she would never feel any sort of positive emotion again, but there she was, and she had laughed. She smiled, just a little bit. An effort on her part, certainly, but it felt possible today. It was something she never would've dreamed of yesterday.

  
"My friend Adrien took me to the funeral." She found herself saying, not entirely sure why.

  
"Yeah?" Chat Noir asked softly. "That seems nice of him."

  
Marinette nodded, looking forward at nothing in particular. "Adrien is nice." She declared softly. "But I couldn't stand being there too long."

  
She felt his hand on her shoulder and looked sideways at him. He had a kind look on his face, one that seemed vaguely familiar, but it warmed her all the same.

  
"But you went out. It's okay to take your time."

  
Marinette shifted. "Is it?"

  
Chat nodded. "It is." He said, and his kindness was warm and sweet and full, and it pumped her bubble with its realness, and for a second Marinette didn't feel like a puppet anymore.

  
"I suppose asking you to eat is too much for the time being."

  
Marinette shrugged, and they both knew it was a 'yes.'

  
"Chat Noir?" She asked softly.

  
"Yeah?"

  
"Can you come back tomorrow?"

  
Chat smiled kindly.

  
"Of course, princess."

  
They stayed in silence for half an hour until his ring started beeping.

**Author's Note:**

> TBH I'm probably writing this story to get all my inner angst out.


End file.
